


Knives Are Like People

by KaniacQueen



Category: Leverage
Genre: Dominatrix, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Sex, The Big Bang Job, gold - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 09:42:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6279412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaniacQueen/pseuds/KaniacQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Torture Doesn't Work</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knives Are Like People

“We’re going to San Lorenzo next week. Are you sure you’re going to be back by then?” Sophie asked as Eliot threw together a travel bag.

Eliot answered, “Yeah. I will. I won't be gone more than two or three days.”

“And you're okay?” Nate asked so that only Eliot could hear.

He nodded. “I will be. I just need a couple days.” Nate gave an understanding nod and let Eliot go on his way. 

An eight hour flight and a forty-five minute cab ride later, Eliot was strolling up to a familiar Victorian house. “Welcome to the Pearl Street Lounge,” a petite brunette in an emerald teddy greeted him. He nodded and winked at her then moved onto the familiar woman at the podium in a similar conservative black dress.

“What can I help you with, Sir?” she asked with a knowing smile.

Eliot smiling far too broad for a man in this sort of establishment. “I’m here to see--”

“My Golden Boy,” a woman purred as she stepped out of the curtains that matched her robes. 

“Evenin’, Lady Violet,” he said. She stepped forward and reached out a hand to him. He took it and kissed it, letting his lips linger on her fingers. 

Her hand grasped his and pulled him forward, kissing his forehead then pulled him through the curtains into her domain. “There is more gold in you every time I see you, even more in the last few years.” Her eloquence contrasted with her deep southern accent like her fiery red hair contrasted with her sienna bronze skin. Her big, dark, hypnotic eyes made him feel at home. 

“Mmmm.” He pressed forward and kissed her hard and deep. He didn't stop as entwined his fingers in hers and sandwiched her between himself and a nearby wall. She leaned into him momentarily before pushing him out to arm's length. She said nothing and just gave him a look. “What?” His voice cracked. 

Her brow furrowed, and she pursed her lips. “I’m not going to punish you, Eliot, not in the way you want.”

“What are you talking about? I’m not looking--”

“Don’t lie to me, Eliot,” she dismissed, slipping out from between him and the wall. 

He followed her as she swept deeper into her chamber. “Violet, ple--”

She rounded him. “Lady Violet!” corrected sharply. “You will respect me by addressin’ correctly.” Her voice got quieter. “But you must not have any respect left for me since you choose to lie. What could be more disrespectful?”

Eliot shrugged. “I could think of--”

She turned her back on him. “Get out,” she commanded, pointing towards the door. 

He chased her front and took her hands. “Please. Lady Violet, please. I need you.” He held them to his lips.

“You don’t say that,” she noted, her voice so low even he could barely hear it, but she glared at him still. He sunk to his knees. “You don’t do that.” Her eyes narrowed, but her expression softened as if she were thoughtful more than angry. The anger was still there, however. “Why are you here, Eliot?” The demand was one of the sharpest things she’d ever said to him, save for the few previous jabs.

He stuttered, “You...you know why I'm here…”

She shook her head and pulled him to his feet. “No.” She brushed hair away from his face with her fingers and held it there. “The man...from your first time...the shadow...he’s returned. You smell like gunpowder and guilt. I was wrong. Your gold is marred.”

Eliot's face puckered. He pulled away and headed towards the door. “I shouldn't have--”

“You know better,” she warned. He stopped in his tracks. She let a long silence set in. He sighed. “Eliot.” She asked a question with a single word.

“I know better,” he confirmed in a low voice. 

“Are you ready to begin?” The notion was daunting but welcome. He nodded. “Verbal, Eliot.” 

“Let's do this.”

He didn’t move. He heard light jingling behind him then she wrapped a leather cuff around his wrist. “Turn,” she requested. He obeyed, and she cuffed his hands in front of her. She pulled him over to the bed, and told him, “Sit.” Once he did, she pulled the clip connecting the cuffs to the to a hook dangling from the ceiling. 

Then she brought a blindfold up to his face. He leaned away from it. “Whoa, do we really need that?”

Lady Violet looked him in the eye. He demeanor was almost clinical. “I’d rather you not see what I am doing as to intensify the experience, and as of now, I don’t trust you to keep your eyes closed. If you object, we can move on to somethin’ different.”

Eliot took a moment then nodded. “Let’s go ahead with the blindfold.” He almost detected a smile before the world went black. 

“Good boy,” she whispered. He heard the soft slide of steel. He jerked when he felt the blade against his chest. He thought it was cutting him, but then he realized the knife was just heated. She slid it across his flesh over and over. He could feel the first-degree welts forming, but he breathed through them. It became apparent that she had several heated knives set aside, switching to new ones when the previous ones would cool. She spread out to his biceps, forearms, thighs, and even his neck. 

The heated blades were gone. He cursed as she was sure she was cutting him this time. As the slices went on, he noticed the lack of blood, and lack of real pain. Then the abundance of chills; the blades were chilled, like put in a freezer overnight night. He took a few shuddering breaths as she continued with quick swipes. “I know you don’t like cold,” she informed him as the fourth knife was replaced. “But you wanted to be punished.” The statement was poisoned with derision. 

“I never said--”

“Am I wrong?”

“Kinda.”

“We can stop if--”

“No!”

Lady Violet gripped a fistful of hair near the knot of the blindfold. A new blade pressed his chest, much harder than the others. A small slash and she had split just the first layer of skin, not even drawing blood. “Dammit,” he growled.

“What if I did?” she asked, the derision still evident. 

“Go ahead,” he assured through tight words. 

“How deep? How deep would I have to cut for you to feel properly chided?” She was almost yelling. 

He finally registered his pounding heart and his increased breathing. “Whatever you--”

She yanked off the blindfold, pulling a few hairs with it. He opened his eyes just in time to see her throw the final knife at the wall. It bounced off and clattered at her feet. “You’ve forgotten everything!” She shifted him back on the bed but kept him in a sitting position then straddled him. “What did you do, Eliot?”

He recoiled. “We don’t talk about that.”

Then she administered a lecture that rattled his bones. “Somethin’ changed in you, Eliot. Three years ago, you began embracing your gold. You came to me for pleasure, companionship. And now you return seeking punishment again. You had done so well, for so long. I cannot break you again. A repeat would not have near the same result. So I need to know why you reverted back to this sniveling mess of pottery. Eliot, what did you do?”

“I PROTECTED MY TEAM!” The outburst was so violent, came loose from the hook, and she returned to her feet. 

“The team that changed you,” Lady Violet predicted quietly. Her tone regained its authority. “Your outburst tells me that somewhere deep down in your gold-filled cracks, you know your recent actions are not as guilt-stirring as they seem, but they remind you too much of the man you used to be.” She leaned close to him again and slid her fingers into his hair. He took a brief moment to enjoy the feeling of her caressing his scalp. “As you say your prayers every night, you count your scars, don’t you?”

He looked down at the cuff hands in his lap and gave his head a shake. “I’m not one to pray much anymore.”

She kissed his forehead. “Lie to me one more time, and you’ll be banned from Pearl Street.” He looked up at her like she slapped him. “I’ve felt you pray in this room. You think if you put yourself through hell, you may not end up there.”

“I gave up on that hope a long time ago,” Eliot whispered. 

“No, the hope grew in you three years ago. Today, you injured it. But it isn’t dead.” She picked up the knife from the floor and held it in front of his face. Slowly, she pressed the cool, while not chilled, steel against his cheek, then dragged it down his neck, shoulder, and arm, almost to his wrist. “What if we gave you new scars to count among your clandestine prayers, Goldilocks?”

With a flick of his eyelids, he threw off the inappropriate nickname and shrugged. “Whatever you want.”

Apparently, it wasn’t the answer she wanted. “These scars haunt you, and you find yourself so far gone, you would let me add to them?” She set the knife down on the bed and pulled his chin up to look at her. “You have come to me so broken, my only option is to try to put you back together, isn’t it?”

He sighed. “Full disclosure, I’m leaving town in a few days. We have to finish what we started. This thing, the old me...I’ve been fighting it for about six months now, and he got out. I don’t know what...or how...or who…” 

She pressed a finger to his lips and shushed him. She stood, stepped away, and reached out to him. “Come on.” He got to his feet and pushed his hands towards her. She took the piece holding his hands together and escorted him to her glorious bathroom. Eliot took a deep breath as an immediate sense of comfort and relief enveloped him. She escorted him over to what he knew was a shower of some sort while it didn’t exactly look like one. She removed his cuffs and directed him to strip, then began removing her own clothes. 

“So you’re joining me this time?” he remarked with a little too much glee. 

She pursed her lips. “Don’t get cheeky, boy.”

“You love cheeky,” he insisted confidently. 

He started to gather his discarded clothes, but she brushed his hands down. “Leave them. Get in.” She opened the door to a makeshift room; three walls made of heavily frosted glass, the wall of the bathroom itself being the fourth wall. He glanced back to look at her own naked form, but she pushed him again. He suppressed a shameless laugh. “Brace yourself,” she warned. She turned a faucet and water came down in a rain pattern from a square screen in the ceiling. The water was hot and getting hotter. The steam blurred Lady Violet’s form. 

Suddenly, her nails scraped rapidly down his back. He cried out. “Dammit, why?!”

“Shush or I’ll gag you.”

He chewed his tongue as she circled him and clawed down his body. He would occasionally pull away, and she would yank him back into place with surprisingly little rebuke.

She pressed down on his shoulder. “On your knees.” Her voice was surprisingly clear over the water. His knees touched the warming tile beneath him. Her fingers slid through his dripping hair. She played with it for a while then tilted his head back. “Head back.” 

Eliot’s breath hitched. Between the heat and the water, it was hard to breathe; it was pseudo-waterboarding.He held position for several minutes, but as the white began creeping into the edges of the black behind his eyelids, he brought his head up with a gasp. But she pushed his forehead back. “No, hold it there. I’m right here, Eliot. I’ll protect you,” she managed to whisper and amid the heat, chills ran down his spine. One hand rested on his forehead while the other ran affectionately over his chest. She held him there for a while, almost long enough for him to pass out. Then she would let him up long enough to catch his breath then tilted his head back again. She did it over and over; he felt his body weakening with exhaustion. Her hands left him, and he began to get up. “Stay down,” she said. With a huff, he reluctantly obeyed. “Brace yourself.” He was about to ask for what when the water turned absolutely icy.   
He sucked in a painful breath and collapsed on his side. The raining drops stabbed him. He groaned in agony. “How...can wat-ter from a pi-pipe...b-be ssso d-damn co-old?”  
He heard the amusement in her voice. “Eliot, I have a room full of nearly a dozen different bathing apparati. Do you really think it’s difficult to get a refrigeration system into the pipes?”  
He glared at her. “You sadistic b--”  
Her foot pressed into him with the warning, “You finish that, you’re gonna regret it.” Her hands slipped underneath his arms and pulled him up. “Come on, back up on your knees, boy. We don’t want an uneven chill.”  
“You’re still mad at me about the kiss, and the ‘Lady’ thing, and the supposed lies, and--”  
“Hush, of course I’m still angry with you.” She rubbed his shoulders and his neck. “But I’m a professional, I can’t let anger control my actions. You know that...all too well.”  
“You know too much,” he mumbled. A groan escaped him as her fingers pressed into him. Her touch was so welcome, so so good. She worked the bigger knots out of him then slipped away. He watched as she took a seat on a shower bench he hadn’t noticed before. It was rather impressive and spanned the tile wall. He began finally admiring her bare form as she crossed her legs and observed him.   
“Eyes front, Eliot.” With a growl, he turned. “See, you’re in need of a cold shower.” Eliot had started getting used to the cold somewhat. He was still freezing but no longer in pain. And she left him there for a while in silence, observing his naked, vulnerable body. Finally, she went back over to the faucet and slowly turned it towards the warmer setting, oh so slowly. his skin tingled as he warmed. It took nearly ten minutes before the steam was starting again. She stepped in front of him, knelt down, and took his hands. “Up we get, my boy,” she said, pulling him to his feet. She guided him to the bench and sat him on it, entwining her fingers in his and pressing his hands against the wall.  
Her lips met his, and he breathed in. Her mouth took over his. When she finally let it go to take a breather, he asked, “So you’re not mad at me anymore?”  
Lady Violet smirked. “Darlin’, who said I was mad?”  
“You--”  
She shushed him. Her hands released his, slid down the wall, and took hold of his thighs. “Oooh, very tight. Did I leave you on those precious knees too long?”  
“Uh-huh,” he confirmed with a grunt, his body tightening with her hands so close to his loins. He cursed once more as her powerful fingers pressed into him, working more knots out of his legs. “How did those amazing fingers get so strong, Lady Violet?”  
She hummed. “How many times are you gonna ask me that? You know I don’t answer those kinds of questions.”  
He stuck out his bottom lip in a mock pout. “You asked questions about me. I think I’m granted at least one question about you.” She raised a very stern eyebrow. He pressed his lips together. “I’m going to pay for that, aren’t I?”  
“I haven’t decided yet.” Her hands slid into his hair, almost subconsciously.  
“You are obsessed with my hair.”  
“Who wouldn’t be?”  
He leaned forward, closer to her. “Lady Violet, have I discovered a weakness?”  
She inched closer, her forehead almost touching his. “Do you really want to discuss weaknesses, Eliot?” His silence answered. And the silence let the traumas of the week come back to him.   
She noticed the change in his demeanor. “Oh sweet boy.” She squeezed him then stepped over and turned on the warm water. The pressure wasn’t as high this time, more of a heavy sprinkle than the downpour it was before. “Wait here.” She stepped out and returned with a basket; inside was a loofah and several opaque ivory bottles with gold caps. She set the basket next to him, and the new scent of lavender met his nose as she poured pearly white liquid onto the loofah. She scrubbed him gently, always starting with his chest. Of course, his arms and legs got their attention. Then she turned him to sit parallel on the bench and paid good attention to his back. The cast-off from the “rain” rinsed him.   
Lady Violet slid behind him on the bench, pushing the basket behind her. She crossed her legs and pulled Eliot’s head into her lap. Then it smelled like apples as she lathered his hair. “Is this your favorite part?” he asked, slipping into the wondrous fog.   
“Maybe,” she failed to answer. “Is it yours?”  
He gave a soft chuckle. “Second favorite.” She returned his laugh. She and him rinse in the water and return to his prone position. She applied conditioner, a task she only chose on select visits, an excuse to play with his hair more, and since he wasn’t submerged, observe the stirring it caused in his groin. She patted his shoulders, signaling him to free her lap. She ushered him to the center of the falling water and thoroughly rinsed him with her own consummate hands.   
Deliberately, she put them face-to-face and stroked him. It was more of a caress. And it almost seemed possessive. He liked it. While he and Lady Violet didn’t have a relationship per se, whispers in the lounge indicated he was a favorite of hers. He was a fond of her as well, who wouldn’t be?   
It was back to the bench. She sat him down, and he sucked in a breath as she straddled him and put him inside her. He cursed, and she took hold of his neck. “Watch that dirty mouth.”  
“Since when has language been a problem for you?” he inquired.   
She increased her grip. “During this portion of the evening, only good things should come out of those pretty lips. Understood?”  
“Yes, Lady Violet.”  
“Mmm, the way you say that grows on me.”  
“Well, right now I’m growing in--”  
She gave him a light smack. “Don’t be crude.”  
“Yes, Lady Violet.”  
She pressed closer to him, forcing him further inside. Her thighs squeezed his hips. He pulled his arms around her, pressing her breasts against him purposefully. One hand braced on his thigh, while her other went into his hair like it belonged there. She kissed down his jaw neck and shoulders as they began thrusting into each other, and he returned the favor. Nails dug into flesh. Breathing became harder. Thrusts quickened and slowed and quickened and slowed. Water cooled. Teeth bit. Voices growled.   
With a gasp, Lady Violet dismounted a weakened Eliot, and they both caught their breath. “You know, most of the time shower sex is like being waterboarded or freezing with the constant fear or splitting your skull open, but that was...”  
“I’m glad. It’s because most showers aren’t designed for shower sex. This one is.” She turned off the water.   
“There was waterboarding, but apparently that was foreplay,” Eliot said, still coming down.   
She took his hand and pulled him to his feet, hauled him towards the door of the shower. “Come on, I’m not done with you yet.”  
“I’m broken, I promise,” he drolled.  
“We both know that’s a lie. You’re askin’ for a whoopin’, boy.” She pulled a fluffy white robe off a nearby hoof and hung it on his shoulders.  
He stuck his arms through the sleeves and tied it while she wrapped herself in a similar robe of plum. “Please, not tonight,” he plead half-heartedly.  
“Ain’t your decision,” she quipped lightly, yanking him out of the bathroom. He was hauled onto the bed, still slightly dazed, and she was on top of him.   
“Look, I’m serious. I’m no one-shot Johnny, but you take a lot out of me, and I am going to need a minute. Seriously.”  
She tugged his robe open. “Oh hush, you have time.” She produced a tube from a pocket in her robe and squeezed the mousse-like contents into her palm. She pressed the tube into his hand for hold, rubbed the mousse around in her hands and began roughly massaging it into his skin. It was slick and oily and tingled on his skin.   
“What is it with you and making me cold?” he complained.   
“So that I can warm you up, of course. And it’s delicious when you get all squirmy.” He attempted to hold still to bother her as she applied more mousse to his arms and legs, but she started pinching him to remedy that issue.   
He growled, “You know, not a lot of people can get away with your mess.” Eliot briefly thought of Parker as the tingling mousse chilled him further.  
She dried her hands on his now shucked robe then took two handfuls of his hair. “I get away with less than you, I’d wager, but you’re on thin ice, boy. The sass stops or I whip you until you bleed and then stick you in an ice bath.”  
Unable to help it, Eliot laughed. “Brutal.” He reached up and stroked her back.  
She leaned into him. “Do you expect anything less?” He shook his head. “How are you feeling?”  
“Like I’ve had a cold shower but in a good way.”  
She took hold of him, and his eyebrows shot up. “Does that mean I can do this?”  
He choked on his own breath and nodded quickly. He was inside of her again. He felt his heart start pumping as she started pumping. The movement caused her damp hair to fall over her shoulder and tickle his chest. Her lips caressed his as her tongue dipped into her mouth. His tongue danced against hers.   
On an upswing, their eyes met. It was brief, but Eliot felt a lifetime. He felt it, what he came for. Security. Comfort. No judgment. He gripped her thigh with one hand and the other squeezed her to him as he rolled and put himself on top of her. She initially looked offended, but after a couple skilled thrusts, her disposition returned to a more pleasant phase. Her turned his attention to her breasts, and her restrained moans told him she appreciated his skills similarly to his appreciation for hers. She reciprocated, teasing his nipples, and he shuddered.   
“How do you...” She just laughed. Their thighs clenched against each other. She buried her face in his neck, and he squeezed her closer. “Thank you,” he whispered. He wasn’t sure if she was listening, but he said it anyway. Her nails cut into him as things sped up, roughed up, and heated up.   
After another glorious set of climaxes were reached, she took hold of him and rolled them on their sides. “I’m not the only one that gets away with things it seems,” Lady Violet mused.  
Eliot glanced towards his forehead. “Am I going to pay for that later?”   
She stroked his hair. “Not this time.” He entwined his legs in hers and scooted closer to her. “And you’re welcome.”  
“You heard that, huh?”  
She nodded. Eliot was aware that the dominatrix was gone. This was a woman that cared about him and used her persona to do it. “Before you drift off into post-session unconsciousness, I need to know that you’re...mended.”  
He nodded seriously. “That’s what ‘thank you’ was for.”  
“Good.” She took his hand and squeezed it. “And you are to come back when your work overseas is concluded.”  
A grin broke his face. “Is that an order?”  
The dominatrix had returned. “Did it sound like a request?”  
He brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them. “I will come back after this next job.”  
Her hand went back to his hair. “Good. Now sleep, sweet boy.”


End file.
